FAULT LINES ━━ titans [REWRITING]

TWENTY TWO.

HOMEMADE DYNAMITE !
❝ FEARLESS. ❞

STARS WEBBED ACROSS THE SKY LIKE SPIDER'S SILK. Delicate and silvery and glistening in the translucent light of the quicksilver moon. So fragile Abigail Lance feared they may fall apart if she tried to reach out and touch their light. So all she was doing was staring at them out her window, hoping the faint mercurial glow would reveal the answer she was dying to know. Had she made a mistake?

Thoughts were filling her head, exploding onto the shadows scattered across the walls like the stars beyond her glass pane. The same scenario, same conclusion. Same glaringly obvious truth, facts not even her anger and rage and relentless stubbornness could deny.

The brunette huffed, frustration and confusion making her brain feel sluggish and foggy, like she was wading through thick waters. She was made from restless winter winds and undying suns, an eternal curiosity that Star City alone could never quite quench. Sleep wasn't an option. The easy route had never been the road she travelled. With a groan, she rolled onto her back, head hitting the cushion behind it with a poof!

"I swear to fucking God, Abby." the annoyed, grouchy, and half muffled voice of Nora Black disrupted the girl's thoughts. "If you move one more fucking time, I will shove you so hard out of this bed you'll be sleeping with the people in the room beneath us."

Abby folded her hands in her stomach, twisting her head on the pillow to deliver a sour smile and dry wit to the girl beside her. "Charming."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep," Nora grumbled.

The whites of her eyes flashed as Abby rolled her eyes, and she peeled back the duvet like a bandage, softly stepping out into the darkness of the room. The cold seemed to touch her skin more familiarly than the warmth of the bed did. Night suited her well, it always had.

Abby glanced to the clock, bones weary at the seemingly unmoving tjme of 01:12am and the brunette took a step towards the door, slipping her feet into the closet pair of shoes she could find. Pulling her arms tight around her body, a guard from the world, she let herself out of the motel room.

Cold ravaged her skin instantly. It seeped into her very bones and she hardly spared it a shiver. Icy nights were far from new to the brunette, she was made from steel forged in hot fires and the flames that burned there were difficult to extinguish. Kind of like the ones that still (how, she wasn't quite sure. She'll get back to you on that one...) felt more like an inferno at the sight of Dick Grayson.

Some people were inescapable. Some red threads of fate were so tightly intertwined, it was impossible to see where one ended and the other started. Some times you looked into someone's eyes and saw your best self. The self who, when you look at them, you know that you want to be that self they see you as — not just for you but for them, too.